As if he hadn't seen the scene of his two companions' miserable defeat, Huai Zhisu walked into the arena holding the sword sent by Tenmoku.
Relaxed and leisurely.
He drew the sword and swung it twice, unable to help but sigh.
In terms of weight, length, and even ease of use, it's far inferior to Grudge.
Not very good.
"This must be quite old, right?" He turned and asked, "Rather than calling it a weapon, it seems more like an antique. Looks expensive, shouldn't it be well preserved?"
"Once a sword becomes an antique, it loses its meaning. It's best to use it until it's worn out while it can still be used."
Tenmoku waved his hand indifferently, "It's the so-called letting things serve their purpose. If tools are not used to the point of breaking, don't they lose their meaning?"
As an experienced tool user, Huai Shi felt the profound malice of the world.
He held the knife in his hand and swung it twice again, producing a buzzing sound from the blade.
